


Love, A Fractal Compilation

by haraya



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, Happy Ending, Romance, Slight spoilers for Secret Endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 13:50:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9745088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haraya/pseuds/haraya
Summary: An epilogue in fragments, concerning Seven and you and always,alwayslove.





	

Love is the way he gives you an Arabic dictionary of your own, small enough to fit in your bag but thick enough to be fairly comprehensive.

Saeyoung is not the kind of person straightforward enough to give you a house key or outright ask you to move in, but you know how to read him and you know what he means to say, even without saying.

And love is the way – after numerous failed tries and terrible pronunciation that ends with you still on the wrong side of a locked door – a panel opens beside the gate to reveal a handprint scanner. When you press your hand to it – _how long has this been here?_ you wonder – the light above the door shifts to green and the gate says, in its robotic monotone, “Welcome home, princess. Should you have further need to improve your Arabic pronunciation and/or grammar, God Seven is always available to help.”

And love is the way he stands there as you walk through the door, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet, before he crowds you against the wall and kisses you.

Love is the way your shoulders shake in laughter as you smile against his mouth.

“Have you been there all this time?” you say, pretending to be miffed as he trails kisses across your nose and cheeks.

And love is the way he only laughs and says, “We’ll work on your Arabic after dinner, okay?”

 

\---

 

Love is the way you wake, sometimes, in the night, with him curled around your back, his arms warm around you and his face pressed to your neck.

Love is the way you pretend to be asleep as he kisses prayers and benedictions onto your skin.

“Thank god,” he whispers, his lips curling up into a smile against your shoulder. “Thank god for you.”

And love is the way you turn over in his arms on the nights his prayers turn from wondering to doubtful to _afraid_ – afraid that this is all a dream, an illusion, a trick of the light in the shadows creeping into his room. Love is the way you take his face in your hands and kiss him, assuring and loving and _real,_ reminding him that you are here and he is here and that this is not a wishful fantasy of smoke and mist that will dissipate in the harsh morning light.

 

\---

 

Love is the way sometimes, when you leave Jaehee’s house late after a long day of looking over plans for your shared café, the CCTV cameras on the streets turn to follow you as you walk by.

“It’s a bit too late to take the bus, isn’t it?" Jaehee says. “Should I call you a cab?”

And love is the way you shake your head and say, “I’ll be fine,” with all the confidence and self-assurance in your body leaking out through the pores of your skin.

Love is the way you’re never afraid to walk home in the dark, secure in the knowledge that your very own cybernaut angel is watching over you.

 

\---

 

Love is the way he still pushes you away, sometimes.

Love is the way you pull him back.

Love is the way you get angry when he forgets to eat, and love is the way he fights back against your love, because he thinks you deserve better than a washed-up secret agent who only knows how to do filthy, despicable work.

Love is the way you place the cat robot in his hands and remind him, “You made this, and it’s beautiful.”

You bring up the webpage with Zen’s Tripter bot on it, his face splattered across the screen and the hit count numbering in the hundred millions. “You made this,” you remind him, “and it’s beautiful.”

You place his hands on your face and guide them into stretching your cheeks into a grin. You look up at him, smiling, with all your love plain on your face, and say, “You made this.”

Love is the way his face crumples up, handily beaten by all the facts laid bare before him, and he whispers, “And it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

 

\---

 

Love is the way he kisses you, tender and still so very hesitant after all this time, like he’ll break you, or sully you, or like he’s afraid you’ll push him away.

Love is the way he sighs against your mouth when you wrap your arms around him, pulling him close – promises without words, saying, _I want you, I **want** you, I want **you.**_

Love is the way his kisses turn frantic, _hungry;_ love is the way he turns his considerable focus completely on you as his skillful hands divest you of your clothes, your underwear, removing each and every barrier between you until you’re skin to skin and eye to eye and heart to heart, drowning in bedsheets that smell more and more like _both_ of you, these days.

Love is the way he looks at you all throughout, whether it’s with his head between your legs or his cock in your mouth or him inside of you, _moving with you,_ and it’s as if he cannot turn his eyes away. Love is the way he watches and listens, _studying_ you in that intense way he studies everything that interests him – and nothing is half as interesting to him as you are.

Love is the way he’s constantly adjusting – his pace or position or where he places his hands and mouth – to draw out gasps and moans and sighs of pleasure from you, building up your desire into a crescendo until you tip over the edge screaming his name.

And love is the way he hesitates – only briefly, but you know him inside-out and _of course_ you notice – as if to ask, _are you okay, is this okay?_

And love is the way you pull him closer still and say, “I love you, Saeyoung. Won’t you come for me?”

Love is the way he shudders against you and holds you close, thrusting into you with the intensity of stars burning, expanding and collapsing in on himself like a supernova.

Love is the way he scrubs his throat raw with your name, desire and reverence mangling the syllables until all that comes out is love breathed out against your skin, like the penitent prayers of a sinner broken and forgiven and redeemed.

 

\---

 

Love is the way he only tears up when he sees you walk down the aisle on your wedding day, even though Zen and Yoosung are both bawling and Jaehee is sniffling delicately into the lace of her handkerchief.

Love is the way he is too profoundly _happy_ to shed too many tears.

Love is the way he laughs when you push Jaehee towards him for a mother-son dance.

“She's such a mom friend!” you say, smiling. “It’ll be just as good as the real thing!”

Love is the way he smiles at you as he takes a grumbling Jaehee’s hand and says, “No, it’ll be so much better.”

Love is the way he grins as you drag a reluctant Saeran onto the dance floor.

“’m not your father,” his brother mumbles as you lead him into an awkward shuffling two-step.

Love is the way you feel Saeyoung’s eyes on you when you say, “You’re still family, Saeran. That's what matters.”

Love is the way Saeyoung watches you two dance, with a look on his face like he’s realizing happily-ever-afters aren’t just lies that exist in the pages of fairytale books.

 

\---

 

Love is the eleven days he spent falling in love with you.

Love is the two days he tried to push you away.

Love is yesterday, today, and every tomorrow hereafter.

Love is the way he’d do it all over again.

Love is the way you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him, until he realizes he won’t have to.

 


End file.
